


The Redemption of A Lifetime

by ThyFebruaryFace



Category: Naruto
Genre: 700 alternate interpretation, Angst, Guilt Trip, Implied Reincarnation, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, redemption theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThyFebruaryFace/pseuds/ThyFebruaryFace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>\His heart is raging, the blood in his veins singing, and he thinks how he has never felt this alive, yet this dead at once. But he will live the redemption of several lifetimes in this one life, in the hopes of the next one being kinder to them.\ SasuNaru</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Redemption of A Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> So. I am not really a Naruto follower. Hell, I don't know enough about it beyond the common knowledge. It is a show I have been following on and off since the past few years. But the Sasuke-Naruto equation really fascinates me. So I decided to write my interpretation of Chapter 700!
> 
> Because lets face it - those pairings came out of no frigging where.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer - I haven't read it enough to stake any claim over it. :P

_What is redemption?_

The question floats in his head, unsurprisingly rearing its unsightly head in the midst of a perfectly calm, irrelevant afternoon.

_There wasn't even a trigger,_ Sasuke thinks. Usually it takes a wave of nostalgia, a glance at the ruins of his childhood home, the smiling faces of his wife and daughter, or simply closing his eyes. But his eyes are open, his family not in sight, his location a path through a busy street of Kohona, safe and far, far away from any trigger of his childhood. _Right, left, right, left,_ he reminds himself. One step at a time. He can't say he is all that normal, all that over it. But he is at a place, some distance away from those days when it used to be _breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, and breathe out_ , one breath at a time.

_What is redemption? What is redemption? What is redemption?_

It is buzzing around noisily now, and he can barely focus on the sudden weight on his left leg, obstructing his pace and bringing him to a standstill. He glances down, noticing the toddler clutching his leg, chanting 'daddy daddy daddy' like a mantra or a jutsu or a prayer, he doesn't know. He stares at his daughter, her black eyes looking right back, the fight in them becoming visible as a tinge of red starts seamlessly spilling in them, trying to get in his head, in the insides of his grey matter, to claw around and find out just why her daddy's not paying her attention.

_Sarada,_ he thinks, gently lifting her tiny form in his arms and bringing her to his eye level. Her eyes are surprised, and then unbridled glee seeps in them, her arms snaking around his neck to bring him close, close enough to assure her that _yes, it is daddy_ and _yes, daddy is looking at me_. His fingers flex hesitantly before he experimentally places them on her back. She snuggles further, her warm body trying to carve herself into his presence and he thinks how she doesn't realise she has been carved there since she came in this world. And only belatedly does he realise, that maybe she isn't trying to carve herself into him, but carve _him into her_ , so deep, so deep, that even if – even when he is gone, like he usually is, she'll feel him there, _know_ he is there.

_What is redemption?_

_Where is yours?_

It is getting louder, angrier, insistent, its demanding tone competing with his daughter's possessiveness, and he can't bring himself to look her in the eye when she shifts to pull back and look at him, sensing the change in him, in his heart, in his mind. He doesn't want her to see any more than she does, sense any more than she has, the mayhem in his head, the ghosts rising from the memories he keeps picking and sifting through like the masochist he is, the voices crying and crawling and drowning him further in the pits of guilt, the hands that caress him, their touch lovely and cruel and wounding-

A soft sensation on his arm pauses his reverie – pauses, because really, can anything ever stop it?- and the glaze over his vision vanishes to bring into focus sea green eyes, calm and asking and caring and concerned and loving and hoping and little, tiny bit, scared.

His wife.

_Sakura._ He has a wife now. A beautiful, strong woman who could die for him at the drop of a hat. Abandon everything and follow him to the pits of hell if she had to. A woman who is now prying his daughter away from him, ignoring her protests. And he thinks again, as she starts walking, him following her, how she knows he is not all there as yet, and how she is giving him his space, and how she is willing to wait by his side, no matter how many years it takes.

_WHERE IS YOUR REDEMPTION?_

He wants to split open his head, bash around and squash the voice he cannot see but feel hammering around the insides of his mind. He wants to clutch his head and pull at his hair till they rip off in agonising clumps, till his head cracks open and bleeds, bleeds and bleeds him some more into the oblivious pits of hell.

But he won't.

But he won't, even though he wants to, but he won't, because this is what he promised the woman who could die for him, the daughter who would carve him into her existence if she could, the only family he now has whom he would die for – oh, how wonderful that would be – and it is the least he can do in this cycle of sinning and redeeming that his existence had become, much like the rest of his doomed clan.

"Oh, they are finally here!"

The voice slices through like a sharp knife, dissipating the voices in his head, and the darkness disperses till all his senses can focus on is that voice. _That voice, that voice, it saved me, that voice,_ the chant is in his heart, the gratitude in his throat, where it always seems to get stuck.

His eyes rove about, finding the bright-haired owner of the voice, waving madly at them, a woman and little boy in tow. Sakura smiles at them, Sarada makes a face, and he just looks. Conversations start floating as they finally reach his family, the wives laughing, the children bantering, the fathers – one staring silently, one smiling, his eyes roving at the happy folks before him-

And then those cerulean eyes find his silent black ones. Sasuke blinks for a moment, before nodding at the Hokage, the man he works for, the man he daily puts his life on the line for.

There is a heartbeat, and another, and another, before the Hokage's face blooms into a grin, a grin that reaches his eyes, eyes that are sparkling now, and Sasuke has the vaguest impression of looking at the sky.

But no, that is how he knows he is looking at Naruto. The years fade behind them, and they are back, the two rivals, the two friends.

_Why Naruto?_

The comfortingly familiar question enters his mind. And he remembers, remembers the numerous times that traitorous thought has sneaked in with varying degrees of emotion – with curiosity in the first time their eyes met, with empathy in the moments they observed and learnt of each other, with envy in the display of emotional strength he first witnessed, with shock in the first kiss they unwittingly shared, with surprise when he nearly died saving Naruto at the Mist, with gratitude and sadness and happiness when Naruto and he made it out alive in the final war-

_Why Naruto?_

Everything fades away, not just the years now, but their surroundings, their families, and he can't explain it, but he knows, knows it the way he knows the sun will rise, a new day will dawn, and the night will eventually fall; that for Naruto too, everything has faded away.

It is just them, in this strange third dimension they seem to keep returning to in the moments they look at each other – onyx and cerulean shades swirling with unidentified emotions - and not unfamiliar because no, just how many time have they experienced these emotions?-

_Why Naruto? Why Naruto? Why Naruto?_

And now he knows. Like he almost does, every other time.

_Because he is your redemption._

Because while Sakura would die for him, Sasuke knows Naruto would live for him. Live, breathe, laugh, cry, smile, dance, rejoice enough for the both of them. Naruto always, always has – saying words Sasuke can't, bearing burdens Sasuke can't, saving when Sasuke can't.

Because while Sakura would follow him to the pits of hell, Naruto would chase him to the ends of hell, heaven, the universe, wherever he'd go, and drag him back to this life. This redemption-less, remorseless, brightly painted world of his.

Because while he _won't_ split his head and stab and pierce for the sake of his family, he simply _can't_ do it to Naruto. He can't do it to the one person who believes in him, even when he sells his soul to the devil, even when he kills and rages and murders and destroys. No, he can't do it to the one man who would give up the meaning of his existence, his dreams without a pinch of regret, for saving a beyond atonement Sasuke.

And that is his redemption.

This sensation that envelopes him every time he looks in those eyes, the unidentifiable but aggressively familiar something that he suspects, no, that he _knows_ Naruto feels too, is what they can't acknowledge. Somewhere in his soul, is this haunting voice, which tells him that this world, this time, is not ready for this. For them. For whatever they are, for whatever they are keeping at bay, for whatever they feel. Their story is written, their destinies awaiting, their paths parallel, headed the same way, but with this little, oh so little bit of distance – which is all the difference it makes in what they are, and what they could be.

He feels it, and he knows Naruto feels it too, because he can see his heart mirrored in those clear skies – confusion, guilt, happiness, yearning and something a little darker, a little unsaid, a little hidden, all of it conglomerating into the unidentified. His heart is raging, the blood in his veins is singing, and he thinks how he has never felt this alive, yet this dead. He is suspended in air, falling and falling and falling and right before he can touch the ground, he is lifted jerkily, only for it to begin all over again.

It is exhilarating, it is terrifying, it is wonderful, it is shattering – but it is _so_ right.

Naruto's eyes darken, and he knows Naruto is looking, and not just looking, but seeing. Seeing what they are, what they hide, what they leave unacknowledged.

Sasuke himself hears, and not just hears, but listens to the heartbeats resonating within every pore of his being.

Because while they feel, they do not touch.

And it's in this jarring silence that a secret is shared, a smile thrown, confusion pushed aside and the world snapped back into focus.

The world fades back into existence, and while they feel it's been too long, apparently it's not been long enough, for their wives are still talking, their kids still bantering intensely. And as Naruto picks up his son, pummeling him in the head, Sasuke bends down to his daughter's level and pokes her forehead.

They both know, they both realize, they both accept.

_That Naruto is Sasuke's redemption in this lifetime._

And centuries later, in a world filled with skyscrapers, flying cars, dreams, colours and the impossible, in a lone corner of an education facility, shoulders bump, shocked cerulean meets mildly irritated onyx, and unpleasant words are exchanged. With a huff and some swearing, the two walk away in opposite directions, but there is a strange satiation in their souls, a whisper beginning, and the countdown begins to the day when the two will finally drop all masks, all pretenses, all the chasing and running, and listen to the voice whisper –

_The world is finally ready for us._

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? I am primarily a Bleach fanfic author, so pardon any wrong details I might have put in here.
> 
> Do share your opinions! :)


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